


The One My Heart Loves

by Caedmon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Sex, Besotted Crowley, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Introspection, Love Confessions, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), Pining, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-07-28 02:11:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20056345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: Demons had no concept of love, but Crowley had never been a model demon. Took great pride in that fact, actually. He reckoned, to borrow the human phrase, he was actually madly in love with the angel. Batshit crazy about him, in fact.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Just another first-night-of-the-rest-of-their-lives fic, here.
> 
> My husband had to convince me to watch the series, and as soon as I did, I fell headlong into this ship. I'm currently making my way through the book (as well as what seems to be the majority of 470 pages of fic), but I simply couldn't wait to actually write this pairing. This is my first work in this fandom, and I'm terribly nervous about putting it out there - especially after reading the _exemplary_ work of this fandom - but I'm swallowing my nerves and doing it anyway.
> 
> For the usuals:  
I own nothing but the mistakes.  
Beta'd by the incomparable RishiDiams and Rose--Nebula. Thank you, my wifeys.  
Come talk to me! [Send me prompts!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/caedmonfaith)  
Kudos and comments are the beating heart of the muse. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for each one of them. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Edit 8/9/19: I changed the title of this fic because it was irrationally pissing me off. The new title is taken from Song of Solomon 3:4.

_Oh, I'm not sure what this is gonna go,_  
_But in this moment all I know_  
_Is the skyline, through the window,_  
_The moon above you and the streets below._  
_Hold my breath as you're moving in,_  
_Taste your lips and feel your skin._  
_When the time comes, baby don't run, just kiss me slowly._  
['Kiss Me Slowly' by Parachute](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5rjcNsLezW8)

***

Demons had no concept of love, but Crowley had never been a model demon. Took great pride in that fact, actually. Since he had never experienced love, he had no yardstick by which to measure what he felt for Aziraphale. Warmth, certainly. A tenderness he held for no other being, human or divine. He frequently felt his soul curl up contentedly in Aziraphale’s presence, warming itself like a serpent on a sunny rock. The thing that made him happiest in the world was when Aziraphale smiled at him and called him ‘dear’ or some other ridiculous little endearment. He’d become utterly addicted to the little verbal affections Aziraphale bestowed upon him over the years, and constantly longed for more. He didn’t know what to do to provoke them, but he was privately, slavishly grateful when Aziraphale gave them.

He also felt a protectiveness towards the angel he couldn’t quite explain, since he was typically quite happy to let whatever happened to the people around him just... happen. Yet when he’d gone to Aziraphale’s bookshop and seen it engulfed in flames, his angel gone, he’d felt something wrenched from within his very own, damned soul. For the first time in sixty centuries, he’d known anguish. He’d known fear. He’d known _torment_. Finding out Aziraphale had not, in fact, been destroyed in hellfire and was able to come back to him had been overwhelming in its joyfulness. He wouldn’t have to be alone, after all. He’d have Aziraphale. The angel was his home, the places he inhabited also the place Crowley felt the most happiness - _any_ happiness. 

If that was what being in love was, then there was no room for doubt - he loved Aziraphale. He reckoned, to borrow the human phrase, he was actually madly in love with the angel. Batshit crazy about him, in fact.

It hadn’t always been this way, although Crowley was self-aware enough to acknowledge that he’d always been at minimum _tolerant_ of Aziraphale, from that very first day in the Garden, six thousand years ago. The fact that the angel had shown such great compassion to the new humans he’d foolishly given away his flaming sword to, in blatant defiance of God Herself, had struck Crowley: not only as amusing, but as endearing. It had been a long time since he’d been endeared (as that was typically an emotion demons didn’t truck with), and he’d found the sensation novel. And then, to his very great surprise, it had started to rain - and Aziraphale had sheltered him. Him! A demon, the sworn, hereditary enemy of all angels. But that hadn’t mattered to Aziraphale, and to this day, when Crowley thought about standing under the angel’s wing, watching the first humans set out into the wide world, he felt a warm little kernel of… something. 

Much to Crowley’s surprise, that kernel had taken root and grown: very slowly, but steadily, until he realized somewhere during the latter days of the Roman Empire that he very much enjoyed spending time around the angel and was even fond of him. Some centuries later, he realized he wasn’t just fond of the angel, he _loved_ him. The knowledge had shaken him to his core, and he’d retired to his bed for nearly fifty years. When he’d awakened, there had been no change in his emotions, and he was floored to find himself in such an unnatural state for a demon. He’d managed to hold out for only three years after waking before searching Aziraphale out for a visit. To his delight, they’d come up with the Arrangement.

He’d noticed over the millennia that the gaps of time between seeing his angel had grown progressively shorter - mostly due to his own initiative. At first, after the Garden, they didn’t see each other for a thousand years (exactly a thousand - not that Crowley had kept up with that sort of thing). The next gap had been quite long, as well, nearly nine centuries. But eventually, that dwindled to two centuries. Then one. Then a few decades. Then a _couple_ of decades. Then just a few years would go by between times the demon and angel saw each other. By the end of the eighteenth century, shortly after his near-miss with the guillotine, Crowley had simply taken to watching over Aziraphale from afar, deciding him to be too jeopardy-friendly to be left on his own. The bloody idiot was on track to get himself discorporated - or worse - if _somebody_ didn’t keep an eye on him. For a bookish sort, he was _awfully_ prone to trouble. 

But Crowley hadn’t let on that he’d kept watch over him. He’d kept himself well hidden, only making his appearances when he had to - or when he just couldn’t stand to wait any longer and needed a top-up of Aziraphale. The angel had never had any idea that he was being guarded by a demon, and the demon had been able to love the angel from afar. 

That had worked quite well for nearly two centuries, but then Adam had been born and they’d been forced to work together much, much closer than they ever had before. Not that spending more time with Aziraphale was in any way a hardship - it most certainly wasn’t. In fact, Crowley was quietly grateful for the looming calamity. Other demons were excited about the prospect of war. He was just thrilled for the excuse to spend time with Aziraphale.

He hadn’t thought it possible, but somehow, he found himself falling even deeper in love with Aziraphale over the course of the last eleven years, and was struggling mightily with it. On one hand, being in love was exhilarating, the most amazing feeling Crowley had ever had. On the other hand, that love was one-sided - that was the only way it could ever be. Aziraphale was a being of love, created to love all God’s creatures, and his affection for Crowley was almost certainly just that, mixed with a healthy dose of familiarity. Nothing more. That knowledge was agony, but agony was all he deserved, as a demon. He certainly didn’t deserve Aziraphale. 

Crowley had felt a burst of pure jubilation when Adam had restored Aziraphale’s body, and had had to restrain himself from dashing forward to hug his friend - which would have been a most undemonly display, particularly given that they had been facing the Four Horsemen at the time. He’d known in that moment that no matter how long they had left on this Earth - be it twenty seconds, twenty years, or twenty centuries - he wanted to spend that time with Aziraphale. Now that he had his angel back, he never intended to let him go. 

But the apocalypse had been averted (thanks in large part to him and Aziraphale), they had managed to thwart the punishment that their respective Home Offices had wanted to mete out, and now they had the rest of time yawning in front of them. The euphoria over his and Aziraphale’s success had been intense - in fact, he was still basking in it - but it hadn’t shaken him from his realization that he wanted to spend the balance of eternity in Aziraphale’s company. Crowley was certain nothing - divine or otherwise - could ever shake him from that determination.

They’d gone back to the restored bookshop after they closed down the Ritz, to the little flat Crowley’s angel maintained above the store, and Crowley had struggled for a minute to maintain his composure. The last time he’d stood in this place, he’d been surrounded by what he thought was hellfire, screaming for Aziraphale, horror and terror and unbridled grief washing over him in tsunami-strength waves. Adam had put everything right again: the bookshop was fine, Aziraphale was fine, and Crowley did his best to brush aside the memory of the time he’d almost lost the one being who truly meant something to him. It hadn’t been easy, but the angel’s reassuring smile had comforted him, and he eventually relaxed. 

Aziraphale had miracled up several bottles of fantastic wine to celebrate with. Crowley didn’t understand why the angel used a miracle to procure good wine, particularly when he already had several bottles of it stashed away for special occasions. Aziraphale just looked at him with a glint in his eye that Crowley would have called ‘devilish’ on anyone else and said that after the day they’d had, he rather liked the idea of sticking it to Management. Crowley certainly hadn’t argued. 

They’d toasted to Adam, to Agnes Nutter, to Anathema, to Newt Pulsifer, to Shadwell, and to anyone and everyone they could think of, getting progressively drunker as the evening wore on. They’d reminisced about old times - situations when they’d been at odds, and other times they’d worked together. Finally, on their seventh bottle of wine, they’d sloppily toasted each other.

The drunken angel’s cheeks were ruddy, his eyes were twinkling, and his lips were curling upward _just so_ in that way that made the demon feel warm - all over, really, but certainly more concentrated in certain areas. His cream-colored suit was rumpled and his downy hair was in disarray and it was just undeniably …_endearing_. (It was also devastatingly _gorgeous_, but Crowley was too deep in his cups to let that thought bubble too close to the surface.)

So there they sat, two immortal beings, one celestial and one occult, who had averted the end of the world over the last week. Crowley’s mood was higher than it had been in centuries, millennia, possibly _ever_, and he was pleasantly drunk with his best friend - the only friend he’d ever want or need. Hell would be leaving him alone for the foreseeable future, and he was no longer answerable to anyone - save Aziraphale. They were on _their_ side. 

Life was good; as close to perfect as he had any right to expect. He was elated. 

He had just cracked open the eighth bottle of wine and was pouring it into their glasses when Aziraphale’s look changed. His white-blond brows were knitted slightly and he was looking into the middle distance at nothing, as if trying to puzzle something out within his own mind. 

“Something on your mind, angel?” he asked lightly.

Aziraphale didn’t answer right away, and Crowley set the wine bottle down. His own brow knit and he felt a flash of worry. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s _wrong_, really. I’ve just had a thought.”

“Care to share with the class?”

Aziraphale turned back to him with a questioning - but pleased - expression. “What if _we’re_ ineffable?”

Crowley picked up his full wine glass and took a sip, smacking his lips and asking, “What do you mean?”

“You and I. Together.”

The demon considered him for a moment. “Well, I’d say that if there _were_ an Ineffable Plan - and it seems now that there was - we were definitely meant to be working together to achieve it.”

“Yes, I know that, but surely Her plan didn’t just _stop_ when Adam defied his father and the Earth was saved. There must have been more. Don’t you think?”

“So you think She’s still pulling the strings?”

“Not exactly, no. I just think She’s fully aware of everything that happens, and nothing happens that doesn’t meet with Her approval. Ergo, She’s fully aware of you and I - and approves.”

“Approves of what?” Crowley scoffed, raising his glass to his lips again. “Getting pissed in a flat in Soho?”

“Of the fact that I’m in love with you, and you with me.”

Crowley choked on his wine, spilling some down his front and feeling the hot burn of the alcohol that had been snorted into his nose. Aziraphale tutted and waved his hand distractedly, clearing up the mess (and Crowley’s sinuses).

“Really, dear, you must be more careful. That’s a waste of perfectly good bordeaux.”

The demon just gaped at him, eyes wide behind his sunglasses. “What the… what are… _What_??”

Aziraphale gave a bland little smile. “What’s tripping you up, dearest?”

Crowley’s mouth worked soundlessly, and his mind struggled to come up with an answer. In six thousand years, he’d never been so shocked, and felt utterly out to sea, with no idea what to say. Had Aziraphale actually said…?

“I don’t… I’m not…” he stammered, then closed his mouth before it engaged and said something abysmally stupid - or lied to the angel. 

“Oh, but I am. Don’t you know? Have been for ages.”

“You… _What?_”

Aziraphale gave an exasperated but fond roll of the eyes and another wave of his hand. The kitchen table and all the detritus of their evening vanished, and Crowley found himself sitting on the couch in Aziraphale’s lounge, the angel right beside him. He looked around the room, still feeling rather tipsy, taking a moment to get his bearings, then felt something cover the hand he had resting on his thigh. He looked down to see that it was Aziraphale’s, curling around his own. He looked down at it, completely at a loss and unsure what he could _possibly_ say, still not entirely sure that he’d heard correctly.

“Angel, I don’t…”

The angel stopped whatever foolishness he’d been about to say with soft lips pressed against his mouth. Crowley froze, entire body stiff, his eyes wide behind his glasses. Aziraphale’s lips moved against his so gently, so softly, that Crowley felt his heart stutter. The temptation to surrender, to give in and let himself get carried away, was almost overpowering. He’d wanted this for _so long_...

He was almost surprised when he placed both hands on Aziraphale’s chest and pushed him back gently but firmly. “We can’t,” he said, his voice somehow simultaneously rough and squeaking. 

“Whyever not?”

Crowley felt a burst of exasperation. “_Whyever not_? Where do I even start!? Bloody hell, I _literally_ don’t know where to begin.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were twinkling and there was a small, serene smile on his face, as if indulging Crowley’s foolishness. It was cute, and that irritated the demon further. 

“Why don’t you start with the first thing that comes to mind?” Aziraphale suggested.

“My mind is a damn jumble,” he muttered, then straightened his shoulders a bit. “But yeah, alright. First things first. You’re drunk.”

“And?”

Crowley glared at him, certain he was being purposefully obtuse. “_And…_ decisions like these - _conversations_ like this shouldn’t be had under the influence of alcohol.”

Aziraphale looked delighted. “Well, that’s easy enough to sort.” He screwed up his face in a look of intense concentration, eyes shut tight and mouth curled in a grimace. Crowley didn’t have to be in the kitchen to know that all the formerly empty wine bottles in there were now half-full. 

After a moment, the angel opened his eyes and relaxed, letting out a small sigh. “There. No longer drunk, and good thinking on your part. Well done, you.”

Still feeling somewhat dazed, Crowley gaped in the face of Aziraphale’s smile, realizing that now, _he_ was the drunk one. He muttered a foul word under his breath, then screwed up his own face, concentrating on willing away the alcohol. Once he was done and had vacated the wine from his system, he opened his eyes to find Aziraphale still looking at him almost expectantly. 

“You were saying?” 

Despite having cleared the alcohol from his system, Crowley still felt somewhat fuzzy. Deciding to test the waters (and to buy himself some time), he said, “Do you even recall what you said?”

Aziraphale looked pleased. “Perfectly, darling. I merely speculated that you and I coming together - _being_ together - was quite probably all part of the Ineffable Plan.”

“And why do you say that?”

“Come now, Crowley. You know as well as I do that She is all-knowing, _fantastically_ fond of grand plans, and terribly secretive. Why, even Her archangels didn’t know about the Ineffable Plan!”

“Because we pulled it out of our arses!” Crowley burst out.

Aziraphale gave him a pointed look that communicated his thoughts clearly. Crowley tried not to let his gaze linger on the angel’s pursed lips. 

“As I was saying, God knows all, and nothing in the universe happens that She doesn’t allow to happen. Approve of, even. She was bound to know that putting the two of us together for millennia to enact Her Plan would result in us falling in love.”

He’d said it again. _He’d said it again._ Something wild and hopeful flittered in Crowley’s chest, but he pushed it down viciously. Hope was dangerous and should not be entertained. Surely he was misunderstanding somehow.

Crowley did his best to make his voice hard when he spoke. “I’m incapable of love. You know that. I’m a demon.”

“Yes, but we all know what a shoddy excuse for a demon you actually are, my love. You never have been especially committed to the nastier aspects of being an agent of Hell.” Crowley started to protest, to say that he was truly _very_ wicked, but Aziraphale cut him off by raising his hand, then laying that hand back over Crowley’s again. He basked in the touch - but tried not to let on. “Whether you should be able to or not is irrelevant. You’ve proven yourself quite capable of loving for several millennia. Not just me, either. I happen to know that you love humanity, in your own way. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have worked so hard to thwart the apocalypse. Try again, darling.”

“I don’t love you,” Crowley said urgently, the lie burning his tongue and tasting like ash.

Aziraphale clicked his tongue and smiled knowingly. “I believe that just as much as you believed me when I told you we weren’t friends and I didn’t even like you the other day. Which I am terribly sorry for, by the way. It was a blatant lie. Can you ever forgive me for hurting you?”

Crowley looked away and muttered something. Demons weren’t meant to forgive - but then, demons weren’t meant to be sitting on a davenport with an angel, on the cusp of professing their undying love, either. Aziraphale was right: he was - and always had been - a shoddy demon. 

The angel continued. “If it’ll make you feel better _not_ to admit that you love me, I can live with that. But I know the truth. The truth is in your _actions_, dear. It’s in you swooping into a cell in Paris to save me from beheading - and then taking me for crepes after. It’s in you coming into a church - a church, darling! - and burning your feet to save me… me and my silly books. Your feet must have been blistered for days, you poor dear.”

They had been, but Crowley wasn’t about to admit to that. 

Aziraphale didn’t seem to need him to. He went on, in a softer voice. “It’s in you asking me to run away to Alpha Centauri. It’s in you telling me that we’re on our own side, not anyone else’s… willing to defy Hell for me. You can deny it if you feel compelled to do so, but I know better. You love me, and I love you back with equal fervor. Possibly even more.”

“You can’t.”

“Of course I can,” Aziraphale said with a squeeze of Crowley’s hand, which was terribly distracting. 

“No, I mean it. You _can’t_. You love me, yes, but you’re an angel. You’re _made_ to love all God’s creations, and that’s why you love me. It’s in your blood.”

Aziraphale smiled indulgently again, running his thumb over the back of Crowley’s hand in a gentle caress. “No, Crowley, my darling, That’s not why I love you. Nor is it _how_ I love you - not entirely. There’s much, much more to it than that.”

“How - how do you love me, then?”

“I love you with Philia, the sincere love of a friend. You are my _best_ friend, surely you must know that.” 

Crowley nodded, looking down at their joined hands. Friendly love. That was all. He felt like crying - and demons didn’t cry. 

Aziraphale squeezed his hand again. “I love you Ludus, the playful, teasing love. There’s no one I enjoy playing with more than you, dear. My love for you is also Pragma - everlasting and longstanding, like those redwood trees we saw a documentary about, remember?”

“Yeah,” Crowley breathed, wondering how far he was going to take this. 

“But my love for you is Agape, too - selfless and unconditional. I don’t expect anything from you, beloved. I have hopes, certainly, but my love is given without demand or expectation of reward. I simply love you because I love you - and there’s nothing you could do or say to make me _stop_ loving you. And there’s no one else in my heart that way, Crowley. No one else compares - no one else even comes close. They never have.”

Crowley stared at him, still completely stunned. He wanted to believe what he was hearing, wanted to so desperately, and aside from his declaration that they weren’t friends, he’d never known the angel to lie to him. Could it be true? Could this be real?

Aziraphale looked almost sheepish and his voice was low. “There’s another way my love for you is different.”

“H - how?”

“Eros,” he said simply. “Love of the flesh. I want you desperately, beloved. Have done for ages and ages.”

“But you _can’t_,” Crowley argued, desperate to make this foolish angel understand. “Lust is a sin - a cardinal sin. _Especially_ for an angel.”

“What I feel for you could never be sinful, Crowley. Lust when accompanied with pure love is not a sin, it’s a beautiful thing. And my love for you _is_ pure, my darling. As pure as the driven snow. It’s not wrong to love you. It could never be.”

“You’ll Fall,” he beseeched Aziraphale. “You’ll Fall from Grace and I - I can’t let that happen. I _won’t_.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “If I were going to Fall because I lusted for you, I’d have Fallen years and years ago. I wouldn’t be able to touch you like this,” he said, stroking Crowley’s hand again. “I wouldn’t have been able to kiss you. I’d have discorporated at once and my soul damned to Hell. But it didn’t happen, dear. As you can see, I’m still right here, still as much an angel as ever, and I think that simply proves my original point: You and I - we’re ineffable. We’re meant to be. _This_ is meant to be.”

Crowley was silent, his mind reeling. His heart was absolutely overflowing with love, simply _bursting_ with it, and he had so very much he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come. 

“Besides, they’re going to leave us alone now.”

“But what if they _don’t_?” he implored without looking up at Aziraphale’s beautiful face, still afraid of the consequences of what the angel was saying - and that he may surrender to them. “What if they change their mind and come after us - you? Gabriel is a spiteful bitch, you know that. He can’t be pleased with what’s happened.”

Aziraphale snickered. “I think you took excellent care of that when you spit hellfire at him. And I certainly did my best to frighten all of Hell when I was there. They’re terrified of us now, dearest. We’re safe. But Crowley…” 

There was something in his voice, some soft entreaty, and Crowley couldn’t help but look up at him. “Yeah?”

“Even if I’m wrong, even if they did come after me, even if God herself suddenly turned Her wrath on me… I wouldn’t regret a moment of this. I’d gladly Fall for you, if that’s what it takes.” He gave a cheeky little grin. “Truth be told, I already fell for you once, about eighty years ago.”

“Bit longer than that for me,” Crowley muttered, then flushed at what he’d revealed. 

Aziraphale reached up with his free hand and turned Crowley’s face towards him, then pulled gently at his sunglasses. No being - save Hastur - had ever removed his glasses before, and he suddenly felt terribly vulnerable. Exposed. But he didn’t stop the angel from removing them, folding them neatly, and turning to lay them on the end table. When he turned back to Crowley, he smiled. “There. That’s better. I do so love your eyes.”

“You do?”

“Of course. They’re part of you, my darling, and I love every part of you.”

He tried to speak, to bare his soul to this miraculous creature he loved so much. “Aziraphale… angel…”

“Yes, beloved?”

_I love you._

_You’re everything to me._

_I’d rather be discorporated over and over again for eternity than be apart from you for even one day._

_I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you._

_I love you so much, angel._

No words would come, but it didn’t matter. His daft, beloved angel seemed to understand perfectly. After a little while of silence, Aziraphale smiled warmly and leaned forward, his free hand covering Crowley’s cheek and holding him steady. Crowley thought he might discorporate on the spot out of sheer anticipation, and he drew a sharp, shuddering breath. His eyes fell closed and he felt warm breath ghost against his lips, then the press of Aziraphale’s kiss. This time, when lips slid across his, he responded. The kiss was slow and gentle, tender and sweet - everything countless authors and songwriters have insisted throughout history that a first kiss should be, and Crowley felt something inside him unfurling, opening up, becoming whole. 

“That was very nice,” Aziraphale breathed against Crowley’s mouth when the kiss broke a few minutes (or hours, or days) later.

“Yes,” Crowley agreed, eyes fluttering open. “That was… heavenly.”

Aziraphale smiled at the little joke. “I hope to be doing a great deal more of that, for a long time to come.”

Crowley just nodded. He wanted that, too. More than almost anything. 

“Aziraphale,” he whispered, like a benediction: the holiest word he knew. 

“Yes, darling?”

He struggled, still wrestling with the words. 

“You know, angel. You _have_ to know how I love you, that my blackened heart and damned soul are yours… You carry them around in one of those bloody snuffboxes you like so much.”

Aziraphale kissed him, slowly and gently. “I love you, too, my darling.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the requested second chapter. :) I hope you enjoy!

Crowley’s head was spinning - a sensation he wasn’t familiar with, but didn’t find unpleasant. How could _anything_ be unpleasant when he was kissing Aziraphale, his hands cupping the angel’s beloved face, having just discovered the love he’d long secretly harbored was returned? There was no room for anything but joy in his heart - joy and wonder and disbelief and… Well, maybe there was a _bit_ more room, but certainly not for anything unpleasant. To borrow a human phrase, Crowley was on cloud nine. 

The kiss broke, and Crowley didn’t waste a moment before he started pressing kisses down the column of Aziraphale’s pale neck, inhaling deeply, getting a lungful of the angel’s intoxicating scent. But he knew what Aziraphale _ smelt_ like, now his tongue was curious. He darted it out to taste the soft, heavenly skin under his lips, and sighed. Crowley felt himself growing harder in his trousers (certainly helped along by the needy little sounds Aziraphale was making and his grip on Crowley alternating between strong and gentle), regretting their tightness for the first time in - oh, centuries. But more than that, the demon felt like he was _flying_.

“Say it again,” he requested between ardent presses of his lips to the underside of Aziraphale’s jaw. “Please, angel. Say it again.”

There was a smile in Aziraphale’s voice. “You want me to tell you how I love you?”

“Please…” 

Aziraphale leaned back, breaking Crowley’s kisses. The demon blinked owlishly while the angel’s hand came up to cup his cheek. 

“I love you, my darling, more completely and passionately than any being - heavenly or otherwise - has ever loved another. I adore you, I _cherish_ you, and my heart’s only desire is to spend the rest of eternity by your side.”

Crowley couldn’t help it, he _attacked_ the mouth that had just said those blessed words, but Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind one bit. He simply wound his arms around Crowley’s neck and parted his lips for an invasion of Crowley’s tongue. 

The demon’s hands were restless, unsure where he should touch - unsure where he would be _allowed_ to touch. Aziraphale had once told him that he moved too fast. Was he doing so now? Forget heaven’s forgiveness, he’d never forgive _himself_ if he pushed Aziraphale too far and the angel suddenly decided this had all been an enormous mistake. But he wanted to touch him _everywhere._ The temptation the angel was presenting was light years beyond anything Crowley had ever done. 

He settled - for the moment - for having one hand flexing against Aziraphale’s side, bunching his wool jacket in his fist, then relaxing. The other hand was threaded through the angel’s downy-soft hair, holding him still for Crowley’s kisses. Not that Aziraphale seemed to be inclined to move away. In fact, he was showing a boldness Crowley hadn’t anticipated, sending one hand down to tentatively touch the cock straining against the black denims, sending a jolt through his body. Crowley growled into his mouth and moved closer, pushing him backwards gently, prepared to jump back at the first sign Aziraphale was uncomfortable with anything he was doing. He got no such sign. The angel took the lead, leaning back and pulling Crowley on top of himself, their mouths never breaking contact. 

To Crowley’s absolute delight, Aziraphale grew a little more demanding, clutching at the lapels of his dark jacket and thrusting his hips upwards. Suddenly, the demon was able to feel the hot length of Aziraphale’s hard cock against his hip and _oh, yes…_

Now that they were situated on the couch, the angel started pushing at Crowley’s jacket, struggling to get it off. When Crowley finally noticed, he snapped his fingers, miracling it - and his shirt - away, leaving himself bare chested.

Aziraphale broke the kiss, looking up at Crowley, his sky blue eyes dark with desire. His hands roamed bare skin, caressing, raising gooseflesh all over Crowley, yet the demon didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He just waited for the angel to say something - _anything_.

“Crowley, my dearest, you are beautiful. The most perfect being in all of creation.”

“I don’t really think --”

“Hush,” Aziraphale cut him off, dragging his fingertips down Crowley’s abs, which jumped under his touch. “So beautiful. And all mine.”

“Yes...” Crowley agreed. “All yours.”

He dipped his head to capture Aziraphale’s mouth in a kiss, still propped over him, and his narrow hips rolled of their own volition, independent of his willpower. Not that he would have been able to stop them, anyway, and besides, the friction against his erection was fucking _fantastic_. Too much more of this, and he would come too soon. It wouldn’t stop proceedings, since his refractory period was practically nil, but it would be rather embarrassing to come in his pants like a teenager from a bit of dry humping. 

Aziraphale pulled his mouth away from Crowley’s, going instead for his neck, making him gasp, then the line of his collarbones, then down the center of his chest. Crowley simply purred from the sensation of the angel’s mouth against his heated skin. 

“It’s simply not fair,” Aziraphale complained between kisses.

“What's not, Zira?”

He circled Crowley’s nipple with his tongue and the demon hissed a breath. Aziraphale smiled against his skin. “You miracled yourself shirtless, and I wanted to unwrap you like a gift.”

“There was no time. Had to feel your hands on me. Next time, I’ll let you.”

Aziraphale smiled up at Crowley, his face lit with a serene joy. “‘Next time’. Oh, I _do_ like the sound of that.”

Taking that as permission, Crowley snapped his fingers again, and Aziraphale’s coat, waistcoat, bow tie, and shirt were gone. He’d managed to take the angel off guard, and Aziraphale’s eyes were wide. Crowley just stared down at him, taking in the pale, almost translucent skin, the white-blond hair sprinkled across his chest. Crowley had seen heaven and performed miracles, but he’d never seen anything - _anything_ \- as beautiful as Aziraphale lying below him, a flush spreading across his face and down, mottling his fair skin. Crowley barely had a second to contemplate his gorgeousness before Aziraphale snapped his fingers and plunged the room into near-darkness.

Crowley blinked in the dark, then snapped his fingers to miracle the lights back on. Aziraphale snapped them off again, and Crowley snapped them back on. “What are you doing? I want to see you.”

Aziraphale’s face was flaming. “I look hideous.”

“You’re the embodiment of every good thing, angel.”

Shame covered his angel’s face. “Gabriel told me I needed to lose the gut. Said I was soft.”

Hot anger flashed in Crowley’s mind. How fucking _dare_ fucking Gabriel make the most beautiful of God’s creations feel like less? The _bastard_.

“Anyway,” Aziraphale was saying, not meeting Crowley’s eyes. “It made me concerned that you might think the same, that you might not want me - if you saw me.”

Crowley looked down at him, contemplating his next words, knowing they had to be just right. “Aziraphale, angel, look at me.” The angel did, still flushing. Crowley was drawing a blank, unable to come up with the right thing, and finally settled for rolling his hips, grinding his hardness against Aziraphale’s thigh. “Does _that_ feel as if I don’t want you?”

His eyes widened. “No… that feels… very nice, actually…”

“Leave the lights on, angel. I want to see you.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Alright.”

Satisfied for the moment, Crowley bent down and started pressing sweet, adoring kisses all over his chest and belly. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, angel. You’re soft, but in exactly the right ways. The perfect complement to me and all my angles. And I want you desperately, Zira. I’m near to combusting with how much I want you.”

His hand went down to palm Aziraphale’s cock, stroking it lightly through the tweed of tan trousers, his mouth seeking Aziraphale’s out again. They kissed languidly for a few minutes, Crowley still grinding his erection against the angel’s leg and stroking him, driving them both higher. Internally, he started wondering just how much longer he’d be able to hold out before he miracled them both naked - and knew it wouldn’t be long. 

Aziraphale beat him to it; in a blink, Crowley went from half dressed overtop the angel on his couch to fully naked on Aziraphale’s bed. He took a moment to look around the room: it was decorated primarily in shades of taupe and ivory, everything looking soft and inviting, with volumes of books all around. The bed they were on was plush and comfortable - much like the angel, himself - and the room was softly lit with candles. There were also several vases sitting around filled with white roses, an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne chilling in it, and Crowley was amused to notice that the bed was littered with white rose petals. He cracked a smile and looked down at Aziraphale, cocking one eyebrow.

“Yes, alright,” Aziraphale admitted a bit testily, flushing again, “I may have… gone a bit overboard. But I had no idea what you’d like --”

“I like _you_, angel.” He pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s rosy lips. “Just as you are.”

“Does that mean… that is to say, I could make an Effort if you wanted…”

Crowley ground himself against the angel, feeling the other man’s hardness against his upper thigh. “Feels like you’ve already made an Effort.”

“I mean, I could change genders. If you wanted.”

In a flash, Crowley realized that he and Aziraphale weren’t bound to any one gender. They could have whatever sex organs they chose to have. Maybe someday, if Aziraphale was interested, they could experiment. They could play. But for now, he just wanted his angel the way he was. Desperately. 

“No,” Crowley answered simply, repeating himself. “I like you just as you are.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Well, that _is_ a relief, since I _love_ you…”

The demon chuckled and rolled them both until Aziraphale was hovering above him, lying in the V of his thighs. 

“Oh!” he exclaimed in surprise. “Well, this is quite different…”

“Alright?” Crowley croaked. Their cocks were rubbing against each other in this position, and the sensation was almost too much.

Aziraphale bent his head to kiss, lick, and nip at Crowley’s chest. “More than alright, my dear,” he murmured around a nipple, making Crowley’s breath catch. “You taste divine.”

Crowley closed his eyes and groaned, leaning his head back, his hips thrusting lightly. Aziraphale sensed his need and wrapped a hand around his eager cock, making Crowley hiss. When he started pumping, Crowley’s brain shorted out. 

“Want you,” he gasped out.

“How do you want me?”

“Any way. I’ll do anything. I’ll give you _anything_, angel. Just _please_...”

The angel started pressing kisses down Crowley’s chest and abdomen, still pumping his cock. When Crowley realized his intent, he moaned brokenly. The feel of Aziraphale’s hot breath had Crowley hissing again, and when Aziraphale darted his tongue out to lick the head of his cock, all he could do was make an unholy - and completely helpless - sound. 

Aziraphale apparently took this as encouragement, because he did it again, then _again_, until he finally, blessedly, opened his mouth and engulfed Crowley’s cock. The demon cried out then, his whole body tensing and arching like he’d stepped on a live wire. Aziraphale’s mouth felt so good, just so fucking _good_, and Crowley had to admit that while his memory of heaven was spotty at times, he was certain that nothing there had compared to the warm recesses of the angel’s mouth steadily sucking, bringing him pleasure. 

His hands were desperate for something to do, reaching blindly for his angel and finding only his bobbing head. Crowley rested his hands there for a while, careful not to pull Aziraphale’s hair, concentrating on not coming too soon. With the way Aziraphale was humming around his cock as he sucked, one hand fondling Crowley’s bollocks, it wasn’t easy. 

“Please,” he begged, feeling the hot ball of tension low in his back. “Want to touch you. Please, Zira, _please…_”

Aziraphale pulled off his cock, still jacking it, looking up at Crowley from his place between his legs. “What is it, my dear?”

Crowley was still writhing. “Please, angel, please...”

“What is it you need? How do you want me?”

Crowley wasn’t sure how to answer that. He wanted _everything_, all of it, and he wanted it _now_. He floundered for a minute, trying to narrow down what he wanted _in that moment_, but it wasn’t a hard decision. Not at all. 

“I want to make you feel good. I want to bring you pleasure. I want you to fall apart for me.”

“But that’s what _I_ want, beloved,” Aziraphale smiled. “I want you mindless, forgetting entirely that anyone else has ever touched you. I want you to be mine and mine alone.”

“I already am,” Crowley panted, and Aziraphale stroked his thumb over the weeping head of the demon’s cock. An idea burst in his mind then, and he sat up suddenly, catching Aziraphale by surprise. 

“Are you alright, my dear? Did you - hmmph!”

The rest of his words were swallowed up when Crowley kissed him hungrily, his mouth devouring, doing his best to pour out all his love and leave no doubt in Aziraphale’s mind who he belonged to. 

“I think I know a way we can please each other,” he said when the kiss broke, gently guiding his angel into the position he wanted him. 

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Are you suggesting we…?”

“Yes. Unless you object?”

“No, no. I can’t imagine ever objecting to _anything_ you wanted to do, dearest. I’m yours, any way you want me. It’s just been years… _decades_, really… Well over a century…”

Crowley shoved down the flash of jealousy he felt, thinking of Aizraphale doing this - any of this - with anyone else. “Do you want to?” he asked instead. 

Aziraphale nodded. “Very much.”

The demon smiled, then leaned over to kiss his angel. Before he got carried away, however, he used his hands to gently lay Aziraphale down on his side, then lay the opposite way. Aziraphale’s cock was in front of his face now, and Crowley took a moment just to appreciate it. Just like the angel himself, it was a little shorter, a little thicker, and absolutely, stunningly gorgeous. He reached out to touch it, and just like he’d always imagined, it was satiny-soft, yet hard beneath - like velvet over steel. A little jewel of moisture appeared at the tip, and Crowley’s mouth watered. Without hesitating another second, he wrapped his hand around it and started to stroke, licking the tip, letting the angel’s sweet taste burst on his tongue, appreciating the strangled moan his tongue elicited. 

He groaned when he felt a gentle hand encircle his own cock, then a hot mouth engulf him. His instinct was to buck into the heat around him, but he managed to refrain, for fear of hurting Aziraphale.

Instead, he concentrated on the cock in his hand, dragging his tongue up the underside of it, then swirling it around the tip like the ice lollies he liked so much. The hand that wasn’t pumping Aziraphale’s cock grasped his hip, bracing himself, then opened his mouth and took him inside. 

Aziraphale made a pleased, but startled sound around his cock that vibrated him in _all_ the right ways, then dissolved into a moan. Crowley was gratified, and bobbed his head on the angel, sucking gently, his cheeks hollowing each time he pulled off. Aziraphale continued to moan and whimper around Crowley’s cock in response to what his mouth was doing, and Crowley set about trying to make his love make _more_ sounds. He sucked, he licked, he pumped with his hand, and his fingers dug into the soft flesh of Aziraphale’s hip as he worked. 

The instinct to thrust into Aziraphale’s hot, wet mouth was nearly overwhelming. Aziraphale was sucking harder, making obscene, carnal, slurping sounds that only served to turn Crowley on _more_. He’d never dreamed his angel would do something so naughty, and he could feel the hot ball of pressure in the base of his spine that would eventually manifest as what he knew would be a mind-blowing orgasm. But for now, he did his best to concentrate on holding off the inevitable.

Crowley took the angel’s cock as deep as he could, mastering the all-too-human reflex that tried to make him gag, until his chin and nose were pressed against Aziraphale’s body. The angel gave a strangled cry, and Crowley swallowed around him, bobbing as best he could, doing everything in his power to give his love this pleasure. He felt a hand wind through his hair and clench, and that little edge of pain spurred him on. 

Without any warning, Aziraphale pulled off and cried, “Stop, stop!”

Crowley withdrew immediately, his hands and mouth leaving Aziraphale’s body at once, his eyes wide and wild. In a flash, he sat up, reaching for the angel. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Zira, I’m sorry…”

Aziraphale sat up quickly and kissed him wildly, his hands clutching at Crowley, his mouth voracious. Crowley was stunned for a moment, still confused, but dissolved into the kiss soon enough, pulling the angel as close as he could get them, until they were skin to skin. When the kiss broke, however, he had to ask: “What’s wrong?”

“That was wonderful, darling, everything I’d ever dreamed of, but it’s not how I wanted our first time to end.”

“How do you want me? I’ll do anything, just name it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Aziraphale answered simply, and Crowley was blown away - both by the request and the language. 

“You want me to --?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t want to --?”

“Not this time, darling. There’s plenty of time for us to try everything - and I want to! - but for now, for our first time, I want you to take me like you’ve always wanted. Like _I’ve_ always wanted.”

Crowley dove forward and captured his mouth in another kiss, hard and demanding and so, so _grateful_. Aziraphale wound his arms around Crowley’s shoulders and leaned backwards, pulling the all-too-willing demon down on top of him. He spread his legs, and Crowley took his place between them, torsos still pressed together, mouths still exploring. Crowley couldn’t help rutting, though, sliding his cock alongside Aziraphale’s, making them both gasp. 

“Please,” the angel begged. “Please, Crowley.”

Crowley propped himself up, bringing his hand between them to seek out Aziraphale’s entrance. When he found it, he discovered that the angel had already miracled himself open, with a generous spread of lubricant. Crowley couldn’t resist sliding one finger inside the angel, hooking it slightly and earning an unearthly sound the demon desperately wanted to hear again. Aziraphale’s face was a revelation, eyes closed and head thrown back, hands fisted in the duvet, tendons in his neck standing out. Crowley pumped the finger a bit, seeking out the place that would make Aziraphale fall apart, knowing he’d found it when the angel’s hips bucked off the bed and he shouted, “_Fuck!_”

The demon smirked to himself and carefully slid a second finger in beside the first, pumping them for a moment, then finding that spot again. He was delighted when Aziraphale swore again. 

“Stop playing with me, Crowley, and _fuck me!_”

“With pleasure,” Crowley answered, withdrawing his fingers and adjusting his position, miracling a little more lube into his hand to slick his cock and sliding it up and down between the angel’s cheeks. Aziraphale grunted in frustration, and Crowley decided to stop teasing. He nestled his head up against the puckered hole and started pressing in, gently but firmly. 

The way had been eased by his fingers, the lube, and a miracle, and he sank into Aziraphale with a groan and a curse of his own. The angel’s passage was a velvet heat, so incredibly tight, and nothing in six thousand years had ever felt so good. He wasn’t sure how he was going to last, but knew he had to. He _had_ to make this good for his love. 

Once he was buried to the hilt, he stilled to let Aziraphale get used to him - and to regain control over himself. The urge to pound his angel until they both exploded was strong, but he couldn’t do that. He was determined to make this the best experience his angel had ever had, and losing his head wouldn’t help matters. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, propped over the angel on stiff arms and perfectly still. 

“I’ve never been better, my love,” Aziraphale promised, opening his crystal blue eyes to gaze up at Crowley. “Kiss me, please?”

It was a request the demon was only too happy to indulge. He lowered himself until their bodies were flush again, covering Aziraphale’s mouth with his own, and kissing him adoringly. Slowly, so slowly, he started to thrust in and out of the angel’s tight heat, and Aziraphale whimpered into his mouth. 

“So good, you’re so _good_, Crowley…”

Crowley didn’t answer - _couldn’t_ answer - but he sped up the thrusts of his cock, his mouth open and hovering just above Aziraphale’s, their breaths mingling in the space between them. 

“_Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth_,” Aziraphale said in halting speech, broken by Crowley’s thrusts, “_for your love is more delightful than wine_.”

Crowley groaned and fucked him harder, his hips snapping, grunting slightly from exertion, planting a kiss on Aziraphale’s mouth. He was getting closer, and Aziraphale’s words were only driving him higher and higher. 

“Fucking… _fuck_, angel…”

Aziraphale clutched Crowley’s back, short nails scrabbling at the demon’s flushed skin, his legs wrapping around Crowley’s narrow waist. “_My beloved is radiant and ruddy, outstanding among ten thousand. You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you._”

“Fucking hell…” Crowley swore, fucking him even harder, his orgasm imminent.

“Oh, _Crowley_, you’re so good to me, my love… I love you so much… you’re so wonderful…”

“Keep… keep talking…” Crowley ground out. 

“Your cock feels amazing, filling me just so, fucking me just right… I can’t believe I finally get to feel you inside me. I’ve wanted this for so long…”

“Me - me too.”

“You knew exactly what I wanted - what I needed - and you were kind enough to - _oooh_ \- to give it to me. I do love you so…”

The demon groaned, pounding harder now, his breaths coming harsh and ragged. He raised up a little and brought one hand between their bodies to grasp and pump Aziraphale’s cock in time with his thrusts, determined to make the angel explode as he was about to.

“Shall I keep - _mmm_ \- shall I keep talking, darling?”

“Please,” Crowley managed through gritted teeth. 

Aziraphale pulled his head lower and murmured in his ear. “_Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away_.” His voice was breathy and tremulous - Crowley worked harder. “_I belong to my_ \- oh God! - _I belong to my beloved, and his desire is for me._”

“Come for me, angel. Come, Zira,” Crowley pleaded. “Please, _please_ come for me…”

Aziraphale obeyed, shouting incoherently and erupting all over his belly and Crowley’s hand. Crowley pumped him until he was sure no more was forthcoming, then released the angel’s cock and focused on finishing, himself. 

“You glorious creature, you make me feel so good… how could anything be as wonderful as this? You’re resplendent, your skin shining, and you fill me so completely… I love you, Crowley… Come in me, please. Make me yours...”

Crowley finally surrendered to the orgasm, throwing his head back and nearly roaring in triumph and ecstasy. It felt as if a match had been lit to every nerve in his body, pleasure being sucked from the very marrow of his bones and flowing into Aziraphale’s arse. He shuddered violently, completely unable to control his own body at the moment, his hips stuttering to a halt, his mind a haze of bliss while he floated down from the euphoric heights he’d been in like a feather on a gentle breeze. 

He opened his eyes when he felt Aziraphale pulling his body down, peppering his face with kisses. “Oh, my love,” he said, kissing Crowley’s cheeks, forehead, eyelids, nose, and chin. “My precious, precious love. You are everything to me, and you are so wonderful.”

“I love you,” Crowley managed, his voice hoarse. “I love you so much, angel. You have no idea --”

“Hush, darling, of course I know. And I love you, too.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Crowley pulled his cock out of Aziraphale, miracled the mess away, then collapsed beside the angel, pulling him closer, so they were lying belly to belly. Arms and legs tangled, and there were many, many soft kisses and quiet declarations. When Aziraphale shivered, Crowley miracled the duvet from underneath them and covered them with it, then basked in the angel’s contented hum. 

“I love you, my darling,” Aziraphale said sleepily, his head on Crowley’s chest. 

“I love you, too, angel.”

“Was it everything you hoped it would be?”

Crowley leaned his head back to catch Aziraphale’s eye, one eyebrow raised. “Was it for _you_?”

“Mmm. It was better. You really are wonderful, my darling.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re wonderful - for me.”

Crowley smiled crookedly, relaxing again. “Well, I suppose I can accept that. Just don’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, but I want to shout it from the rooftops!”

“Please don’t,” Crowley grinned. “You’ll ruin my hard-earned reputation.”

They lay together for a long while after, and while Crowley was tired - it had been a _hell_ of a week, after all - he didn’t succumb to sleep right away (although it seemed Aziraphale did). He just held his angel tight, stroking his back gently, and vowed to never, _ever_ let him go.

When Aziraphale snored lightly, Crowley smiled and pressed a kiss to his soft hair. Then he whispered, “_When I found the one my heart loves, I held him and would not let him go._”

Aziraphale stirred a little, and there was a smile in his voice. “You’d better not, you wily serpent.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've had several people ask for more to this story, and I'm happy to do it. I'd actually very much like to, but... I have a thread of an idea (that can easily be built upon) but I have no idea how to end it. If you have any ideas or suggestions, please hit me up [on tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/caedmonfaith) Just let me know it's an idea to continue this story, and not just a regular plot bunny. I may not be able to recognize the difference!


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